Archive for the ‘Sex’ Category

Let’s get the obvious out of the way.  All cultures are different.  Practices that are acceptable in one society are totally taboo in another.  Blah… Blah… Blah.  However, let’s get to the real point.  Some cultures are BETTER than others.  I bet you think I’m going to embark on a tirade about the superiority of Western norms, don’t you?  Well, I would.  But, honestly, who wants to deal with the hate mail?  So, let’s take a different tack.

I publicly announce my preference for the customs of the aboriginal natives of the Andaman Islands.  (Didn’t see that one coming, did ya?)  We’re so dull in the West.  We greet one another with a handshake.  Or, if we’re really familiar, arms are opened for a hug.  The evil among us will employ the pretentious “air kiss”.  However, Andaman men have an entirely different method.

They take hold of their salutary shaft and wag it in your direction.

He’s just saying “hi”.  I think.

Think how this custom could benefit our society.  Have a contentious business meeting in the future?  Don’t fear.  If you’re brandishing a bodacious boner, the opposing side will flaccidly fall back.

The dating world would be revolutionized.  Tedious hours of small talk and flirting will be abbreviated depending upon the abbreviation of the appendage in question.  Bars will finally be free of the herds of salacious singles thus returning the Kingdom of Booze to its rightful rulers:  drunks.

All in all, I think we could borrow a page from the Andaman natives’ etiquette book.  Mind you, we just need to flip past the chapter that describes their other greeting ritual – their habit of lobbing spears at strangers.  That just seems uncivilized.

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I’ve noticed that men have an almost devotional relationship with their penises. They talk about “junior” like it’s a separate entity.  Sometimes, they give it a name of its very own.  I have yet to meet a woman who does that with her genitalia. Speaking for myself, I don’t call my breasts “Thelma and Louise” or “Tom and Jerry”. Truthfully, I don’t think they would even respond to those names.

Considering how much men like their organ, it’s a shame they can’t actually date themselves.  I mean, wouldn’t it be convenient if men could take their penises out to dinner, go see a movie and, ultimately, make the moves on themselves?

This brings me to the thrust… I mean… point of my argument.  Men are so enamored with their johnsons, they think everyone else is equally enthralled. What else explains their constant invitations to display the family jewels?  Of all the delights that the computer-age has delivered, the web cam is the least appealing.


See Dick1

“hello baby, you want to see my dick on web cam?”

The only way I want to see your dick is if it’s removed from your body and submerged in a bottle of formaldehyde.  If I see your “man meat”, I fear I’ll never want to date another man in my life. 


See DIck2

“hi trish i can show you my cock i swear respond me please”

I’m sure you can show me but it’s not necessary.  Really.  I’m not sure why you need to “swear”.  Do you think that I doubt your earnestness?  I honestly don’t.  I admire the fact that you request an R.S.V.P.  Evidently, you’re a stickler for etiquette.



“wanna see my hard cock?  cybercock_@******”

Sweet baby jeebus.  Let me count the ways in which I don’t want to see that. Thank you for promising me that you would be hard because that really sweetens the deal. However, I don’t want to see your “love spear” hard, flaccid or any condition in-between. While your email address certainly is truth in advertising, I think a more appropriate choice would have been:



(Nota Bene ~ Some of you have asked if I actually know the men who send such erudite messages.  Ummm…  Have you seen the men on my “Friend List”?  It’s populated with the interesting and the attractive.  I’ve seen road kill that’s better looking and wittier than these ads for abstinence.)

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Clothes Make the Man

Clothes make the man.  Unless, of course, his clothes are made of other men.  Or, in this case, replicas of other men.

Penis Man

Yes.  This man is wearing a penis covered costume.  Please take a moment to revel in the sheer repulsiveness of this sight.

However, the titillating question is…  why did he chose this cockamamy ensemble?  What is the thrust of his argument?  What point is he trying to drill home?  Is he mounting some sort of campaign?

(I’ll stop with the puns before this humor reaches its peak.)

Is he attempting to alert others that he is, in fact, so well-endowed that only a sea of penises can compete with his prowess?

Perhaps, he’s one of Marvel Comics lesser known superheroes.  Ladies and gentlemen, I present “Penis Man“.  His powers include the ability to harden at a moment’s notice, to penetrate anything in front of him and to produce ruffies out of thin air.   His only known weakness is immediate flaccidity when the word “commitment” is mentioned.  Wait a minute.  This sounds suspiciously like most guys.  Anyway….  When he isn’t fighting the never-ending battle against blue balls, he reverts to his alter-ego, Mr. Willy Johnson, a mild-mannered prophylactic salesman.

I couldn’t cum come to a conclusion.

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Facebook 101

Wikipedia defines Facebook as “a free-access social networking website”.

Yeah.  Sure.  That’s one way to look at it.  I have my own definition.

Facebook:  The internet’s equivalent to a woman walking past a construction site filled with horny day-laborers.  

Wait.  That’s not a complete definition.  

Facebook:  A site that mimics a dingy bar that serves 190 proof Everclear to those horny day-laborers… making them even hornier.

Wait.  That isn’t the full story, either.

Facebook:  A virtual dive where horny men (cloaked in anonymity) feel free enough to send obscene messages to complete strangers.

Let’s be clear…  I enjoy flirtations.  I enjoy the exchange of lustful thoughts between two consenting people.  I enjoy the carnal delights that two interlocking bodies can provide.  However, I’m just old-fashioned enough to believe that this line doesn’t work:

hey bby… u r gr8… will u suck my b@lls“.

What does he think I’m going to say?

Gee.  Since you asked so nicely, sure thing.  Drop your pants and whip out those bad boys while I pucker up.”   

For some reason, these “invitations” are always delivered by the world’s most disgusting men.  At least, I think they’re men.  Many are so hairy they should see a groomer.  Honestly, if this guy weren’t in the safety of his basement, would he ever proposition a woman?


Oh yeah…  Stay away, girls.  I saw him first.  Someone better hold me back.  My lust is overwhelming.  I’ve never been so turned on.  The mere thought of becoming lost in Sasquatch’s fur makes me tingle.


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